


Resolve

by tahirire



Series: Regen 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-09
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam weighs options.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolve

Resolve

   


Dean laid quietly in the dark and counted for a full five minutes before throwing back his sleeping bag. He had heard Sam wake up the second it happened, mostly because he’d still been awake himself. It was the visions that always woke Sam. It was the still small voice in his brother’s head, always calling to him, telling him that only he could end this slaughter. On nights like that, Sam usually wanted to be alone, and Dean could respect that – for five minutes.

They didn’t stay in compounds most nights. Sam said that staying in a compound was like painting a target for an air strike and no amount of protective ink or carved sigils would save the refugees from Lucifer if he came looking for him. It felt like they’d been running forever, but somehow they were still alive, the two of them together, always one step ahead, always one breath away from losing everything.

Dean found himself mapping a route in his head as he climbed the nearest hill, unconsciously tracing a means for their escape. The small fire they’d lit to cook dinner had long since burnt out, leaving a dark ring of coal behind. One quarter mile, North-Northwest, two clicks to the left. Then – just because it was Sam he was looking for – Dean took a right angle and headed off course 500 yards.

He found Sam at the edge of a small, struggling lake, staring intently up at the hazy sky like he was trying to remember what the stars looked like. Dean wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time they’d seen one.

This close to the hot zone, there were no stars.

“Just the Morning Star,” Sam whispered softly, not moving a muscle.

“I hate it when you do that,” Dean sighed, no real heat behind it. There was a time when he would have waited for Sam to speak first, all the while hoping that he would decide not to – a time when he would have felt invaded by the prospect of openness. But everyone else was gone. Sam was all he had left, and he couldn’t run from Sam, not after all they’d been through.

“You still have Jo,” Sam said. “And Cas. He’s alive, Dean. I still feel him.”

Dean’s throat tightened. He put one hand on Sam’s shoulder and wished Sam would stop staring up at stars that weren’t there.

“You still have them, too.” Dean whispered.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“How bad?”

Sam shuddered underneath Dean’s easy grip.

Dean shook him a little, firmed up his voice. “Sammy. How bad.”

It was hard not to see the wear in his brother’s eyes, the soul deep sorrow that Sam carried like a shroud. Sam swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, scuffed the loose earth with his boot.

“Bad,” he offered simply. “Bad, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t ready to have the talk again, but he would. He’d go through the motions as often as he needed to, do anything to keep Sam moving, to keep them together. Anything to keep Sam in the game until there was no other way.

“You gotta hang in there,” Dean started, speech memorized. “We’ll find another way, and we’ll go after him together, man, I promise. Just give me a little more time, okay? A little more time, Sam – I’m beggin’ you.”

Sam’s lips might have tugged at the corners in a thin attempt to smile, but his eyes were dull and worn, seeing only other planes, other towns, other victims of Lucifer’s advance.

“M’tired, Dean,” he sighed.

Dean nodded, ignored the icy pit deep in his guts that told him this time might be the last time he’d ever need that speech, ignored the fact that he’d stopped believing it months ago.

“Okay.”

“He’s always …” Sam trailed off, clenching his hands halfheartedly into fists. “I’m just tired.”

Dean nodded. Sam didn’t sleep much anymore.

“Come back to camp, Sam.”

Sam hesitated, but he gave a short nod. “In a little while,” he said. “I want to see the moon.”

Dean bit his lip, but he let his hand fall from Sam’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. When there was no response, he turned and walked away.

The faint night breeze just barely carried Sam’s _thank you_ far enough for him to hear it.

Dean walked back through the woods, dragging one foot in front of the other until he tumbled headfirst into his sleeping bag.

He was asleep before he realized that Sam had never looked at him, but somehow even in his sleep he knew; when he woke up the next morning, Sam would be gone.


End file.
